


Our Own Traditions

by keepitdreamin



Series: A Sam/Bucky Christmas [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 25 Days of Fic, Alternate Universe, Christmas, M/M, i'm tagging AU but even I'M not sure if it's canon divergence or something else, maybe AU?, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepitdreamin/pseuds/keepitdreamin
Summary: Sam drags Bucky out for a surprise





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m feeling very soft and quiet today. calm, still, like everything is happening around me and i just Am.
> 
> I don’t know how well this flows because my imagination was very visually oriented and idk how to write it all into words. 
> 
> The aesthetic of this story: the way lights blur at night, that first breath when it’s cold outside and you can see it, big sweaters that fall over your hands, well-worn and warm flannels, and that feeling when someone absently plays with your hair or rubs your back.
> 
> (I made a [pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com/keepitdreamin/our-own-traditions/) with some things I think convey this)

“Come on. Get your coat.”

Bucky looks up from where he’s been “reading” (ie staring blankly at the same page for about an hour) to see Sam standing near the doorway, shrugging on his own coat and grabbing a scarf.

“What for?” he asks, setting the book to the side.

Sam looks over and smirks. “It’s a surprise. Now get your coat.”

Bucky considers not moving, just dragging the couch blanket around himself and staying exactly where he is for the rest of the night. But then Sam shoots him his patented combination puppy dog eyes and charming grin that has reportedly stopped two muggings, gotten him out of five tickets, and stopped three wars, and he finds himself agreeing.

Sam still won’t tell him where they’re going as they drive out of the city. They don’t really talk, but Sam puts a Christmas station on low, so it’s not silent. Bucky curls up in the passenger seat, feet on the dash, and staring out the window at the blurs of lights they pass by. After a while though, his eyes refocus on the reflection of Sam in the window, lit up by the dashboard lights. He’s humming softly along with the music and tapping out the beat on the steering wheel, and Bucky would be really annoyed if it was anyone else but with Sam, it’s familiar and soothing. In the reflection, Bucky catches Sam’s glances over at him and the little smile makes Bucky’s insides go warm and fuzzy.

 

They stop at a small diner about 20 minutes out. “Is this the surprise?” Bucky asks as Sam holds the door open and ushers him through. It’s a nice place, small, cozy, not too dirty, and actually really prettily decorated.

“Nope, just a treat,” Sam says, then grins charmingly at the waitress who greets them.

She rolls her eyes and plasters on a smile as she hands them menus. “Welcome to Ella’s. I’m Mary; sit anywhere and I’ll be right over.”

Bucky slides into a seat and Sam follows after him so they’re pressed together on the same side of the booth. Mary’s smile changes when she comes over (a smile Bucky has come to recognize—different from the “oh look, how _charming_ ” and the “oh my _god_ squee!!!!!”—a smile of recognition and solidarity, and Bucky returns it with a little nod) and she asks cheerily, “What can I get for you?”

Sam orders coffee and Bucky gets a hot chocolate (there’s peppermint sprinkled on the top, he is in love), and Mary recommends the Dutch baby which they split.

 

When they leave the restaurant, Sam grabs a hold of Bucky’s sleeve, and they stand for a moment. It’s started to flurry again and Sam tilts his head back. Bucky watches him, the small snowflakes kissing his skin and the perfect, blissed out smile, with the lights behind him lighting him up like an angel. “You’re beautiful.” It’s meant as a statement of fact, but it comes out soft and quiet and full of awe anyway.

Sam chuckles as he lets his head drop, and he reaches out to pull Bucky under his arm. He presses a kiss to the side of his head before pulling him to the car. “Come on. We’ve got places to get.”

This time in the car, Bucky closes his eyes and just drifts for a while in the quiet Christmas music with Sam singing along and the lingering smell of coffee and chocolate and peppermint.

 

“We’re here,” Sam says with a gentle shake of Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky blinks open his eyes to Sam’s grin. At Bucky’s confused grumble, he says, “You fell asleep. It was adorable, and I wouldn’t have woken you up, but we’re here.”

Bucky stretches and yawns. When he opens his eyes, Sam’s staring at him with that one special smile, the _Bucky_ smile, and he just _has_ to lean forward and kiss it. “Peppermint,” Sam notes when they’ve pulled apart. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

“Trees,” Bucky says as they stand to the entrance of the lot.

“Yup,” Sam says brightly. “Let’s pick out our tree.”

“You know,” Bucky says as they wander through the rows, “I’ve never actually picked out a tree. We’d always wait till a few days before Christmas and get whatever scrawny thing was left to be thrown out.”

“Mom never did trees,” Sam says as the stop and examine one. Sam’s smile is nostalgic and tinged slightly sad. “I think we probably couldn’t afford it, but she just said she couldn’t stand the smell and left it at that.” Bucky reaches out and squeezes Sam’s hand. Sam’s smile softens as he looks at Bucky, and he squeezes back. “Come on. Let’s make our own traditions.”

They wander around the tree lot for a while, stopping occasionally to point out a tree’s needles or general bushiness (to be honest, neither of them really _know_ what they’re looking for in a tree), till they stop in front of the same one. “This one,” Bucky says and Sam nods in total agreement.

Bucky doesn’t fall asleep on the ride home. Instead he finds himself humming along to the radio and feeling safe and warm and good with Sam beside him and a tree— _their_ tree—on the roof.


End file.
